Daily Stories

And up he hung fifteen because The herrings were not fried.

Then out and spoke the little boy Who waited at the meal: “Each time the monk to the cloister comes He thus with us will deal.”

And it was getting late at night And folks to bed should hie, Then because the Abbot sat too long He struck him out an eye.

The Abbot hurried off to bed, No longer dared remain; I say to ye for verity He felt both shame and pain.

p. 29’Twas early in the morning tide, The bells began to ring; It was the monk of the shaven crown Would neither read nor sing.

p. 29

So stately strode he up the choir Where the monks and nuns they stand, Not one of them dared read or sing For fear of his stalwart hand.

So they the Abbot pious and good To a simple monk debased, And they the Monk of the shaven crown As Abbot o’er them placed.

And he the cloister held with might Till thirty years were flown; Then died as Abbot in mighty fame, The Monk of the shaven crown.

p. 30THE CRUEL STEP-DAME

p. 30

My father up of the country rode, He thought to wed a lovely rose; And there he met a laidly wife, The source was she of all my woes.

The first night they together slept She seemed to me a mother mild, But ere a second night was past She prov’d a step-dame fierce and wild.

I sat beside my father’s board, I sported there with hound and pup, And then to blast my blissful lot My step-dame wild came striding up.

That God should make my lot so blest My wicked step-dame could not bear; She changed me to a sword so keen, And bade me far and wide to fare.

p. 31By day I grac’d the side of the knight, I hung the hero’s heart so near; At night I lay beneath his head, For his good sword he loved so dear.

p. 31

That God had made my lot so blest My wicked step-dame could not bear; She changed me to a little knife, And bade me far and wide to fare.

By day I was in the Lady’s hand, The linen white with me she cut;